


right to be hellish

by ejected



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blame the UST, Canon Divergence, Cas makes the lights go boom, Episode: s15e13 Destiny's Child, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, First Time, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, This turned out way more explicit than I intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejected/pseuds/ejected
Summary: HunterCorp Dean reveals he had a fling with Cas in his universe and wouldn't mind another round. Dean is less than pleased. The night spirals from there.Diverges during Destiny's Child.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 21
Kudos: 199





	right to be hellish

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this other than I'm a huge sucker for jealous!dean. only fairly recently caught up with the series after a few years of blissful freedom and couldn't let go of the idea. had to play with the timeline of the episode a bit, in that huntercorp bros don't leave right away. 
> 
> special thanks to trang for the beta read through!

It’s been a shit day.

Between a trip to Hell, a soul revival, and a disturbing brush with almost death, the latter of which Dean absolutely does not want to think about, he could really use a break. A day to recover. He’d even take twelve hours of uninterrupted quiet, just for a little goddamn peace of mind.

Instead, because life’s never been that generous, the night ends with the weirdest pizza party happening on earth, featuring his brother, an angel, a nephilim, and the most obnoxious alternate world versions of himself and Sam.

It’s stilted and disturbing and more than little infuriating, and Dean has never wanted to punch his own face more. He’s not sure what to do with these creepy parodies of him and his brother, but he knows they absolutely cannot stay here. Peru should be nice this time of year. Better than being buried in a shallow ditch, surely. 

Then the night goes from bad to the absolute worst.

“Oh my god, I just realized how I know you,” alternate world Dean says, staring at Cas across the map table with a devious grin. Dean immediately narrows his eyes from behind his tumbler. “Cas stands for Castiel, right? You saved me from Hell!”

Dean chokes on his drink. Cas tilts his head in his painfully endearing way, searching the other version with his mystified squint. Dean grinds his teeth, barely refraining from telling him to knock it off. That would just be irrational. Right.

“You’re just now realizing this?” the real Sam asks with a note of judgment that goes right over asinine Dean’s head.

“Yeah, it was so long ago,” he laughs cheerfully, like he isn’t talking about one of the bleakest weights Dean still struggles to carry to this day. “I knew you seemed familiar. You look a bit more beat down here, no offense, but I could never forget those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

Man-bun Sam snorts at his brother but remains otherwise undisturbed by the casual flirt, whereas Dean’s pretty sure the rest of them are gaping in bewilderment. He isn’t positive though, as he’s unable to take his eyes off Cas to gauge his reaction.

Cas nods once after a long moment, seeming awkward. Dean tries not to be viciously glad. “Yes, my true name is Castiel. I believe the alternates of me rescue you from the pit in most universes.”

The other Dean shakes his head though, looking puzzled. “From the… pit? No, of course not,” he says dismissively. Dean’s eyes about bulge out of his head when he continues, “We hunted a demon together who wanted to collect on some ridiculous crossroads mix up. Totally swooped in and saved my ass. And, heh – we had some fun for a couple days after.”

Nobody speaks for several moments. Dean thinks his heart is about to beat out of his chest, alien-style. He knows that suggestive tone, having used it his entire sexually awoken existence. In another life, apparently, he never spent forty years downstairs _and_ he got to have a weekend sex rendezvous with Cas. 

Awesome. Just fantastic.

And now that version of himself is gazing at _his_ Cas like a freaking snack he’s about to double dip.

Douchebag Dean appears completely oblivious to the mounting, definitely unsexy tension in the room. “I didn’t know you were an angel. Wow.” He bites his lip, totally unsubtle, and Dean imagines knocking his teeth right out.

Cas evidently doesn’t know how to respond, his eyes flicking to Dean for the quickest moment. Dean can barely meet them. He has absolutely no idea what Cas can read on his expression, but his face feels like it’s on fire.

“He was just a hunter in your world?” Jack asks curiously, the first thing he’s said all night, but the other Dean doesn’t falter, keeps staring at Cas. Dean nauseously wonders if this is how everyone else feels sometimes.

“We didn’t get to talk much, busy with the job and other, more pleasant things.” Dean doesn’t miss the completely unnecessary wink, and it’s honestly a miracle he doesn’t launch out of his seat and across the table. It’s a close thing, though.

“Although, you were rather remarkable, now that I think about it,” soon-to-be dead Dean continues. He strokes a thumb over his mouth, fucking starry eyed. “You showed up out of nowhere to help me with such a vast amount of knowledge I’d never heard before. The way you killed the demon was more badass than I’d ever seen. And you were crazy intense.”

Sounds about right.

Cas smiles, a half, tentative thing, and Dean’s guts spill onto the floor. “I’m glad that Castiel could be of… good service to you.”

From anyone else that would maybe sound like a line, but Dean knows when Cas is trying (and usually failing) at being flirty, and that ain’t it. The other version obviously doesn’t notice, flashing a predatory grin at Cas. “Just like you. You saved me from interdimensional purgatory. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Dean finally has to look away then, down at the empty glass in his hand. He doesn’t even remember finishing it, and he needs another one or ten.

Sam, probably having noticed the look on Dean’s face, quickly changes the subject after that. Dean doesn’t speak the rest of the uncomfortable dinner, resolutely ignoring every word between his alternate self and Cas exchanged quietly in their own broken off conversation.

After an unsuspicious time has passed, Dean excuses himself from the table, shoving back his chair loudly. He throws his plate into the sink with a clang for someone else to wash, pours himself an extra-large whiskey, and stomps to his bedroom, complete with a door slam.

Not suspicious at all.

*

An hour later, Dean feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. He should be exhausted after the events of the day but can’t even sit down, pacing the room back and forth.

All he can picture is his own face staring at Cas that openly, hungrily. He and Cas have had their fair share of _moments_ , yeah, but definitely nothing like that. He’s never lingered on Cas’s mouth and licked his lips and – well, that might not be the best example, but he’s never acted that outrageously indecent with Cas.

Blatant. Suggestive. Probably inviting.

Not that he didn’t want to. That just wasn't what they did, not in this forsaken world.

Now, though – now he’s wondering if that’s exactly what’s about to happen, right here in his own home, and he’s not even invited.

Fuckface Dean had moved toward the end of the meal to sit right next to Cas. They were still talking when Dean stormed out, knees agonizingly close to touching. Cas was responding easily to him, not uncomfortable anymore from what Dean could tell. He certainly wasn’t telling the sleazebag to fuck off like he should.

Dean can’t decide between hurling, hiding under his blankets, or searching out the nearest bad thing to kill. Like his pretentious counterpart, for instance.

Actually, if he’s going to be real honest with himself, what he really wants to do is go find Cas and stake his fucking claim.

He tries to tell himself that’s ridiculous, but Dean’s yearning pulls relentlessly at his seams, unraveling into fury as the moments tick on. His evil clone doesn’t get to just roll in here, rich and confident and somehow well-adjusted, and take Cas for himself. It’s not fair, and more than that, it’s not right.

Cas is _his_.

He’s not, really, but Dean wants him to be.

After their fight, Dean had been almost certain Cas was never coming back. He knows now that he deserved it, but watching Cas walk out left an ache deep in his bones that settled and throbbed like an infected wound in the weeks that followed. No amount of alcohol could dull it. He put on a good show, he thinks, but each passing day had ate at him more than the last. 

Then Purgatory happened, and the part of Dean that he tried to keep tucked away broke out and came at him with a baseball bat. It sure as hell knocked some sense into him regarding the scope of his feelings for Cas, which are more extensive than ever, to say the least. The kind of extensive that makes him want to confess, _I don’t want to be without you anymore._

Having Cas back so close now gives him back a little sanity, at least. They have Jack back too, and he’s quietly thrilled by how much joy that brings Cas, because he deserves it more than anyone. If Chuck and imminent death weren’t hanging over their heads, Dean could maybe go on pretending this is still enough for him. 

It’s not, though. He’s fucking terrified, as always, but he wants more. He can admit that to himself now. He’s been trying to figure out what to do before they run out of time, all without taking the wrong step. Cas matters so damn much to him, and Dean really doesn’t want to mess anything up by rushing.

Knowing that some stand in Dean might be down the hall laying hands on his angel, just for _fun_ after all they’ve been through, claws at him like hellhounds.

No.

Fuck that.

In an outraged burst, Dean marches to his door, not sure exactly what he’s about to do but intent on ending the other Dean’s offensive charade at the very least. He rips the hinges open and – instantly deflates.

Cas stands right outside, blinking back in surprise. His fists are clenched at his sides, and he looks warily apologetic.

“Hello, Dean,” he says softly, soothing Dean’s nerves over like a cool breeze.

“Hey, Cas,” he says back, just as quiet. He’s pretty sure he has whiplash from how swiftly he’s steadied just by Cas’s presence. His heartbeat continues thumping wildly in his throat, but frankly that happens almost all the time around Cas. “Everything good?”

He gestures Cas into his room and shuts the door behind him, not wanting any douche canoes to interrupt. Cas sits at his desk chair stiffly. “That’s what I wanted to ask you,” he starts, shifting uneasily. “Today wasn’t very pleasant, and dinner was… interesting.”

Dean forces a laugh and hates how his cheeks go hot. He sits down across from Cas at the edge of his bed. “You could say that. I swear this isn’t just my shitty self-esteem talking, but I really hate myself. And my brother. Silver spooned assholes,” he says, shaking his head, hoping to clear it all the way. “I’m good though.”

Especially since Cas isn’t being felt up in one of the guest rooms.

Cas stays silent, his preoccupied gaze on the empty space between them. Dean’s palms begin to sweat as the moment ticks on, because clearly Cas is working himself up to say something. He has a quick moment of horror where he wonders if Cas is about to ask for his blessing, although he realizes that’s absurd. Cas would never. Hopefully.

Instead, Cas mumbles, “I’m sorry I was not able to save you before you went to Hell.”

Dean reels back a little, unable to stop himself. Of all things Cas could’ve said, he wasn’t expecting that. “What are you talking about, man? You don’t need to apologize to me.”

Cas looks so damn sad, though, eyes still cast down. He sighs, scratching at the stitching of his pants. “You seemed aggravated after he said he never went. That I saved him from the demon.”

“That wasn’t… I mean, yeah, I could’ve passed on the torture,” Dean says carefully, other rebuttals stuck in his mouth, like admitting he was seething with possessiveness and trying not to humiliate himself. “But I’m not, like, disappointed in you for what you couldn’t control at the time. It wasn’t your fault.”

Cas finally glances up. The distress in his expression makes Dean wants to reach out and grab on to him, fingers twitching. “Did I ever tell you that I spent years looking for you?”

“You… you did?” Dean chokes out, not knowing how else to respond as he tries to wrap his brain around this new piece of information. He’d kind of assumed Cas’s rescue was more like a snatch and grab, to be honest. Hadn’t wanted to think much beyond that.

Nodding grimly, Cas says, “After you broke the seal, Heaven sent my garrison to retrieve you almost immediately. It was supposed to be quick, but you were so hidden. Every move I made ended up wrong. You spent an extra ten years there because we couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you.”

“I know you tried your best, Cas,” Dean manages, aching from the idea Cas didn’t give up on him for a decade when they hadn’t even known each other yet, and he still hasn’t, another decade later. Dean tries to give him a reassuring smile. “All that matters is that you did find me. You saved me.”

Cas huffs out a breath. He doesn’t seem all that assured. “Yes, well. I wish I could’ve spared you the pain entirely.”

“I don’t,” Dean blurts out before he realizes what he’s about to say. A low hum starts echoing in his ears. “We, uh. If you’d done that, we probably wouldn’t know each other. Like this. And honestly, having you in my life was… well, worth the trade off.”

Cas stills for three long seconds and subsequently gives him this gorgeous smile, soft at the edges, the one Dean’s never seen directed at anyone but him. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, ruined by it, and then they’re staring at each other for too long like always.

“You were worth it, too,” Cas says quietly, the familiar tension between them starting to crackle again, and Dean admittedly fucking swoons.

Alternate world Dean missed the fuck out, but he doesn’t get a do over. This is right. These pretty blue eyes belong to him.

He should say… something. Anything. The opportunity presents itself like an outstretched hand, but his mouth goes cotton dry and he can’t seem to remember how to form a single word.

Only, suddenly, Cas stands up from the chair. He closes the distance between them and places his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean thinks Cas must feel his rapid pulse where the tip of his thumb rests on Dean’s bare skin. He looks up at Cas, holding his breath, dying to reach out in return.

For one blissful, terrifying moment, Dean wonders if Cas is about to kiss him. He’s so close.

Cas squeezes Dean’s shoulder and simply says, “Thank you, Dean. I hope you get some sleep.”

He begins to leave, and no, _what_ , that won’t do. Dean scrambles off the bed after him. “Hang on,” he says and then stops short, despising that he still can’t find a stupid coherent thought. He doesn’t want Cas to leave period, much less venture out where another Dean might be waiting to pounce. They might seem polar opposite, but Dean would bet he’s tenacious all the same.

“Where are you going? I mean. What’re you gonna do all night?” Dean tries, voice pathetic to his own ears.

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. “After I check on Jack, I’m going to continue searching for signs of Amara. Did you need me to do something?”

_No_ , Dean thinks, wishing for one of the few times that Cas could read his eyes, his mind, something. _Only need you._

Instead, he rubs a hand over his face like a proper coward and says, “Nah, just. You know. Maybe try to get some rest. Don’t think I forgot you basically died today.” He lightly kicks the toe of Cas’s shoe. “Wish you’d stop doing that.”

That’s at least truthful, the memory still making him woozy at the edges. The last time Cas actually died fractured Dean into pieces and nearly killed him. Seeing his angel splayed out lifeless again, knowing he was traipsing through a darkness that nearly kept him once, was horrifying to discover.

Cas, the petulant bastard, tightens his eyes. “Yes, Dean,” he concedes with the slightest hint of exasperation, as though Dean is overreacting, which he definitely is not.

He goes to depart a second time, and Dean snags his wrist without thinking. He has to look away, still horribly uneasy but at a minimum needing Cas to know how much Dean cannot lose him anymore. Even if he can’t bring himself to say all the other things.

“Please don’t go anywhere on me,” he whispers at the floor. He hears Cas suck in a soft breath. “I couldn’t take it again.”

Cas sways for a moment in his grip. “I’ll try my best,” he finally responds, but he sounds distressed again. Dean supposes it is a lot to ask with the universe literally about to end, but he didn’t want to make Cas sad.

He doesn’t take it back, though. He lets go of Cas and watches him leave without another word.

He just hopes his alternate self is as much of a spineless moron as him.

*

Dean tosses and thrashes in bed for at least another hour before giving up. His room feels too empty, his heart too heavy with unsaid words. His mind won’t stop flipping between what would’ve happened had he managed any courage at all or what could still be happening down the hall. He needs another strong drink if he has any chance of sleeping, and he does not acknowledge the excuse to check on— other things.

He nearly makes it to the kitchen when he hears all too familiar voices: Cas, who sounds two octaves too high, and the other Dean, who’s speaking in low, fucking dulcet tones. 

The fury from earlier slams back into him with a breakneck crash.

Stalking in silently, tensed, he finds slimeball Dean shirtless, wearing only Dean’s own plaid pajama pants, which are absolutely getting burned in the morning. He has an uneasy looking Cas practically backed into the counter, leaning in far too close. Dean can read the intention all over himself.

If Dean had a gun on him, he’s certain he’d blow the fucker’s head clean off.

“Cas,” he says, voice deep and dangerous to his own ears.

Both of their heads whip in his direction, Cas jumping back and instantly seeming embarrassed. The other Dean isn’t phased in the slightest. He smirks at Dean, cocky as hell, and says, “You’re interrupting.”

“It’s my kitchen,” Dean bites back and then gives Cas a pointed stare. He’s not even thinking at this point, rage boiling. He says the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Cas frowns in confusion while the alternate Dean scoffs out a laugh. “Right. Give me a break. I found all the hidden folders in your computer.”

He obviously didn’t find all of them, but Dean won’t give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t take his eyes off Cas. “Come back to bed with me,” Dean repeats lowly, impatient for him to get the hint. He’s not above dragging Cas out by his coat.

Asshole Dean still won’t back off, doesn’t even step away from the invasion of Cas’s space. He gives Dean a challenging look. “Uh-huh. You’re telling me that you two have something going on?”

“Maybe we do,” Dean grates out before Cas can respond. Cas’s jaw drops open a little, but he doesn’t deny it, thank fucking god. He starts inching away from the douchey Dean, and fierce triumph rushes through Dean with every step.

Evidently Dean doesn’t give up in any universe, at least not when it comes to Cas. “I call bullshit,” the other Dean says with a finger point that Dean wants to break in half. “I watched you two earlier. I didn’t see a damn thing, and I would know, if you recall.”

Dean stays silent, which the dumb fuck mistakenly takes as a victory. The wrong Dean turns back to Cas, actually putting his hand on Cas’s waist, and Dean – well. 

Dean flies right off the handle and doesn’t even care.

He marches up to them and shoves the imposter away, hard, not sparing a glance when he hits the floor. Then he wraps a hand around Cas’s neck, pulls him in the way he’s always wanted to, and kisses him.

Cas tenses for the briefest of heart stopping seconds before melting beautifully into Dean, into the kiss completely.

Everything kind of just goes quiet.

Dean’s ferocity drips down like wax as the kiss quickly turns tender, so damn sweet. He presses in even tighter, wrapping his other arm around Cas, relishing the warmth that spreads through him. Cas twists his fingers into Dean’s shirt and kisses him back so nicely, tasting of honey, and Dean could honestly cry.

_Finally._

He sighs into Cas’s mouth and pulls back a bit to check his expression. Cas blinks at him with his pretty blue eyes, dazed and kind of blissed out if Dean had to guess, and Dean has to grin a little.

Cas smiles back, the same smile reserved only for him, he’s sure of it now. Dean kisses him again because he can’t not.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers a chuckle, and he remembers with an irritated pop that they have an audience. Dean turns his head to shoot a nasty glare at his alternate self, who’s watching them with too much amusement and not nearly enough fear.

“Now that you’ve seen something, you can fuck right off,” Dean tells him, practically growling.

The bastard gives him another smirk but does raise his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. Fucking off,” he says, and he shoots Cas a wink as he leaves. Any other time Dean would go strangle him and enjoy it thoroughly; as it is, he’s too busy navigating one of the most significant moments of his life.

Now that they’re alone, the nerves kick back in, but they don’t seem as massive or as debilitating as before. Being this close feels too good. He can’t bring himself to put any distance between them, still holding onto Cas by the back of his head. Cas doesn’t let go either, clutching Dean’s shirt like a lifeline.

“Hi,” Dean says, ever the romantic, running his thumb over the shell of Cas’s ear.

“You kissed me,” Cas states slowly. His words waver sightly in question, and Dean gives him what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“Yeah, I did.” He can’t quite believe it himself. He squeezes Cas’s neck gently and leans closer, so their lips are nearly grazing. Seizing on tight to the sudden burst of confidence, he asks, “Can I do it again?”

Cas makes this low, breathless sound, right against Dean’s mouth. He only has to nod once for Dean to reel him back in.

He tries to remember why he ever thought doing this with Cas would be the wrong move because he’s kissed a lot of people and it’s never been like _this_. Cas kisses like he does everything else – intensely, resolutely, with an undercurrent of otherworld electricity that zips through Dean’s veins delightfully. He matches Dean’s pace, yields easily to Dean’s pressing tongue. 

It’s stupid amazing. He kicks himself for not doing this from the start, from the moment Cas burst through those barn doors, sparks flying like they are now.

When Cas slides his hands under Dean’s shirt and drags his nails lightly over his bare back, Dean groans and pushes him fully into the counter, Cas gasping in his mouth. He’s imagined doing that more times than he can count, feels heady at the rush of it. Wanting to feel skin too, he tugs the layer of coats from Cas’s shoulders, only allowing enough space for them to drop to the floor. Dean yanks at the angel’s shirt tails until he works his way underneath, and he groans at the scorching heat he finds, inhumanly warm.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he runs his hands over Cas’s sides and back. He’s all hard lines and soft, soft skin. Dean’s heart is beating wildly, overstimulated already. He nips at Cas’s jaw as he takes a second to catch his breath, trying to grasp even a scrap of composure, but Cas gasps at the teeth and rocks his whole body into Dean’s. His nails dig into Dean’s back, sending a simmering, raw shockwave through him.

“Why… now?” Cas asks, breathy as Dean kisses and tastes his way down Cas’s throat. It’s a fair question but definitely not one he’s particularly eager to answer, so he tries to distract Cas by sucking a bruise into his pulse point. Even though Cas gives him a delicious moan, writhing in his grip, he still manages, “Because of the other Dean propositioning me?”

Dean pauses, knowing he’s blushing, stays tucked into Cas’s neck to hide his embarrassment. “No. Yes. No,” he mumbles. The douchebag was undeniably the catalyst, but Cas has to know this has been building and compounding between them for a dozen years, bound to burst eventually. Surely he knows that. 

Dean can’t bring himself to ask and deflects instead. “Were you gonna?”

“I… No.” Cas hesitates just a second too long, swallowing. “No,” he repeats firmer, but a flare of jealousy has already ricocheted up Dean’s spine.

Dean looks up at him slowly. Cas’s eyes are blown open and bright, his cheeks dusted pink. Dean wants to make him look like this forever. “No?” he asks carefully, more teasing than actually agitated, and Cas squirms beneath him all the same. “Didn’t even think about it?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Cas says, which isn’t an answer, and Dean gives him a wicked smirk. 

“You sure, Cas?” Dean asks as he begins popping the buttons of Cas’s shirt open from the bottom, and Cas’s eyes go wider, somehow. “You weren’t exactly running away. You must’ve wondered what this was like.”

“Of course I did,” Cas rasps out as Dean’s finishes the final button and slides the shirt off, already savoring the glorious naked skin he’s seen criminally too few times. Cas slides his thumb over Dean’s chin then, and Dean stills, brings his eyes back up. “Not with him, though. Always you.”

Dean takes in the gravity of his words, the admission in Cas’s tone, and it nearly knocks him down. Cas sounds so damn sincere, and Dean kisses him again an attempt not to choke up. “Yeah,” he whispers against Cas’s mouth, hoping he understands that Dean means, _It’s always you, too._

Cas surges against him, recapturing him into a kiss that quickly turns searing. Dean runs his hands down Cas’s chest slowly, and they both groan out loud as Cas rocks his hips back into Dean’s. Cas is _hard_ , deliciously pressed against Dean’s own answering arousal, and any blood lingering in Dean’s head instantly rushes south with a heavy swoop. He meets the next thrust with his own and is instantly lost.

Cas groans his name as they move together, touching everywhere in reach, and Dean feels like he’s gone haywire. Grabbing Cas by the back of his firm ass that he always knew existed, Dean grinds in harder, delighting in the broken noises Cas makes each time. He’s vocal and loud, and Dean fucking loves it.

“Maybe we should go to your room,” Cas gasps out after one particularly echoing moan. He’s probably right – the kitchen isn’t that far from the bedrooms, within earshot if they’re not careful enough. Dean’s never been that keen on sharing, and god forbid Sam or Jack stroll in, but frankly that possessive flame in him hasn’t totally extinguished yet.

He watches his angel’s face as he reaches down and starts at the fastening of Cas’s pants. “Nah, I think we’re fine right here,” Dean says, and Cas bites down on his lip, appearing wonderfully ruined. He presses a quick kiss to Cas’s cheekbone when his pants drop. “Don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Cas’s dick is pure velvet in his hand, thick and hot as Dean starts pumping slowly, and Cas lets out a stuttering cry, much too loud. Dean grins, rubbing his thumb over the tip, slick from clearly being on edge already. Cas reacts exquisitely, shuddering against him, throbbing in his grip. Dean’s honestly never been more turned on in his pitiful life.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous like this,” he says, unable to stop himself, coaxing Cas through another stroke. Cas looks thoroughly debauched, splayed out for the taking, and Dean wants to take and take, whatever he can get. “Can I try somethin’?”

Cas nods dazedly a couple times and then leans forward, presses a loose kiss to his mouth. “Whatever you want,” Cas rasps out, always knowing the right thing to say, and Dean licks both of their lips. 

“Awesome, I’ve always wanted to do this,” Dean says, barely registering his honesty, and sinks to his knees.

He takes a quick second to whip off his shirt and another to gather an extra ounce of nerve. They should probably slow down, maybe, talk about the magnitude of this between them, but Dean wasn’t kidding when he said he’s waited long enough. He has no idea what’s going to happen after but fuck if he isn’t going to enjoy it while he can. 

Dean lightly kisses the base of Cas’s flushed red cock and starts working his way up. Cas tastes both clean and musky, intoxicating, and his knees full on shake when Dean finally wraps his lips fully around him. The small burst of precome that explodes on his tongue is so hot, delectable, igniting him. He’s hard as hell in his own pajamas but barely pays any mind, in that moment wanting to focus only on Cas, wanting to make him feel so good.

He takes Cas into his mouth slowly, as far as he can go, heart pounding. He chances a glance up at Cas and finds him staring raptly back, looking positively stunned, slack jawed and wild at the edges. Not breaking their gaze, Dean bobs his head a couple times, and Cas lets out the most incredible moan yet, rough and reverberating through the whole damn kitchen. Dean grins as best he can with his mouth stretched, which just makes Cas thrash more. 

Then Dean goes to fucking work.

While he might be terribly out of practice, he tries to make up for it tenfold with enthusiasm. He probably has next to no finesse, but Cas doesn’t seem to care at all, judging by the obscene sounds he continues to let out. Each one vibrates through Dean, makes him go faster, deep as he can, doesn’t even flinch when he gags a little. This is one of his many fantasies come to life, and he feels like he’s high.

When Cas digs his fingers into Dean’s hair and wind in tight, practically guiding him, Dean’s eyes roll back in his head. He squeezes one hand around Cas’s hip just for some fucking purchase and shoves the other into his pants, wrapping around his own dick that’s already about to explode. 

Dean moans around Cas at the relief, and Cas chokes on his breath. “Dean,” he croaks out, voice absolutely wrecked like he’s the one who’s been giving head. “Dean, I’m— I don’t, I –”

He can taste how close Cas is to coming. He couldn’t even guess how many times he’s imagined what Cas would look like, what he’d taste like, can’t believe he’s about to find out. Dean gazes up at his angel’s pretty blue eyes again, and he’s almost sure Cas hasn’t looked away the whole time. He pulls off just barely despite the whine of protest.

“No one else gets to do this with you, Cas,” he says between the edge of command and pleading. Cas’s cock brushes against his mouth, leaves a hot trail of precome on his cheek, and Dean wraps his hand around Cas and starts jerking him with intent. “I want you to myself.”

“Yes,” Cas gasps, nodding wildly and thrusting into Dean’s grip. His fingers pull at Dean’s hair tighter, almost painful in the best way. “Yes, yes, I-I… I’m yours, Dean, _oh_ , I’m yours.”

“That’s right,” Dean murmurs, lit up and white hot and heartbeat throbbing in his ears, jacking Cas faster as he rocks into his own hand and towards rushing heat. “That’s right, sweetheart, you’re mine. Now let go for me.”

A few glorious things happen at once: Cas cries out so loud that surely the whole bunker hears, coming messily on Dean’s face; Dean takes him back in his mouth to swallow the rest of it as he comes with a groan into his fist; the lights surge in the peripheral of his blurred vision and then literally burst with a resounding pop.

It’s the best orgasm of his life. 

Some hazy length of time passes before Dean can gather his senses a little. He huffs heavily into Cas’s hip, trying to calm his pulse and unsure he can even stand up. Cas breathes equally as hard above him, his hands wobbly and gentle on Dean’s head now. The kitchen is much dimmer, only a few of the lightbulbs having survived what Dean assumes was a pulse of grace. 

He’s a little nervous to look back up but does, knowing he can’t, won’t avoid it. Through the dark he can’t really read Cas’s expression beyond the dazed look in his eyes. Dean can relate, totally off kilter and blissfully buzzing. 

“Hi,” he says again in lieu of anything intelligent. 

Cas gives him a shaky smile back and then helps Dean back onto his unsteady feet. Cas rubs his thumb under Dean’s bottom lip, who remembers with a flush that he still has come smeared on his face. Cas stares at the sight almost appreciatively and after a moment of thick silence, he leans forward and licks a bit off.

_Christ._ He can’t believe this.

Dean doesn’t mean to laugh, but the stupid giddy relief in him just bubbles up because finally, _finally_. “Holy shit, Cas,” he says around a grin, wrapping his arms around Cas’s shoulders to bring him back close, where he belongs. “You broke all the lights.”

“I’ll help you change them tomorrow,” Cas says back, appearing proper chastised for a second, but then he starts chuckling too. Dean loves hearing him laugh, infrequently as it happens. He loves being the one to make Cas laugh, make him smile, bring him any kind of joy. He loves standing here in their home, the gap between them finally closed. He loves – well, everything, because honestly, he just loves Cas.

In that moment, Dean wants to tell him. That this is what he’s wanted for years, then and now and possibly forever if they manage to save the world, even though the thought still terrifies him. More than blowjobs in the kitchen – waking up in bed together, having family dinners, finding a place to retire, all the little things in between.

He hopes Cas sees that in him because he still just… can’t. Not yet, not when they could be obliterated out of existence tomorrow. Not when they still don’t have control of their future. Not when the thought of losing Cas after only now getting him rips into Dean like a violent blackhole. He will, he swears, when there’s a forever for him to promise.

He presses his lips to Cas’s temple. “Cas, you know I…” Dean squeezes his eyes shut and grabs Cas’s hand, presses it to the shoulder where his mark once laid. “I’m yours, too,” he admits softly instead, hoping it’s enough. 

Cas sighs, a quiet content sound. He leaves his palm on Dean’s arm when he brings their mouths back together into the sweetest kiss yet. 

Dean realizes that he hasn’t felt this kind of tenacious hope in years, maybe ever. The odds might be stacked against them more than ever, about to go head-to-head with _God_ , but now that he’s seen the cards in play, he’s ready to deal, ready to win. He won’t fail, not when he can see the prize.

“Come back to bed with me,” he repeats from earlier, and this time Cas nods and follows without hesitation.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! kudos and comments are so appreciated for this rusty writer trying to get back in the swing. there might be second installment because I still want their relationship to work into the confession/empty but with a happy ending of course (CAUSE THEY DESERVE IT).
> 
> come be friends with me on tumblr! betrayalgarden.tumblr.com


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